wasurenagusa
by starsandsea
Summary: life in elopement: when somebody asked if they were married, she said no, he said yes.
1. Chapter 1

he thinks it's the start of a happy ending because they found an old house and made a home out of it, it's the warm mist of her breath when she leans closer to him to snuggle during cold afternoons and he puts his arms around her –no longer awkward because she welcomes him and no one is watching and they're not pretending and he sighs contentedly.

it's the pair of warm lips that tells her softly they went through a lot, _don't give up now_.

(i do not own anything. might be ooc. setting is japanese feudal.)

**wasurenagusa**

* * *

><p>i.<p>

Once, when somebody asked if they were married, she said _no_, he said _yes_.

This was a month ago, but Ichigo still pesters Rukia about this.

"What? You're ashamed of me?" he says of course, petulant like a child, and pouting –so horribly, horribly wrong for a man his age, 28.

Rukia likes to think (and is probably true) that she's more mature between the two of them, but she's actually 2 years younger (but sage-like as Renji puts it, fucking know-it-all as Ichigo puts it). She simply –if he's an arm's length- pinches his arms then smacks his head, then tells him coldly.

"It's for our security, you idiot."

"None of your idiot clansmen will find us," he answers, sure of himself, and Rukia hates this confidence wholeheartedly. She wants to agree with him, believe in his confidence -she does, she does, she really really does- but she knows it's not just that. His confidence led him to capture then torture then-

"They are not going to find us," he says again, quieter this time, as if to reassure her.

Rukia doesn't say anything. Somewhere deep, deep, deep, she knows it's to reassure himself. Rukia understands. It's fine, she decides. She has an understanding heart, Ichigo likes to look strong and nonchalant. He doesn't say, but she knows, his shoulders are stiffer than ever, and every leaves rustling brings the same tension a war signal would. He reassures her while he reassures himself and he's failing (but he doesn't know) and she's just being realistic.

This is late afternoon, a lazy, lazy time to just roll around or stay idle in tatami mat, the shoji is wide open, there's the afternoon sunlight, red, and orange, and yellow, and it's quite cold and Ichigo is lying there in the warm tatami mat facing the open shoji, Rukia cradling his head on her lap, the sunset ahead of them, coloring everything in red, orange and yellow.

She just finished changing his bandages and he told her to stay because the sky is just too striking, because they never really had a time like this for them before.

Because people never walk on the same water the second time, the same wind never blows the second time, the same air is never inhaled twice, a moment can never be relived exactly the same twice, Rukia knows this, so she lets him persuade her to stay. She thinks, he has this side of himself, the other side of the skilled warrior, and she kind of adores this side.

This is every day, this is having peace, she thinks, not quite sure how long it will be.

And not quite long, she hears the little snores he makes and brings her palms to his head and rakes his hair slowly, and he snores a bit more.

Rukia, still, has a penchant for wearing white, and him, still, black. Her clothes, more common –simpler than her previous silk and satin sets of robes, jewelry –she wears no jewelry, never really did. And her hair, pulled up into a messy bun with a lone strand hanging. And Ichigo, just like years ago, still wears his standard hakama and gi, but without his black-finished armor and katana.

This is them now, the former noblewoman and the former military commander.

* * *

><p>ii.<p>

Two months before winter, Ichigo hacks tree trunks down to sizable pieces for the both of them, he makes sure they have enough to burn for the upcoming weather –however coldly Rukia tells him not to, because, "_your work is crude"_ and "_don't you ever listen to me_?"

But "_your work is crude" _actually means "_the wounds in your back will hurt more_" and "_don't you ever listen to me_?" means "_please_ _don't think about me; think about yourself_."

But he still does it because it's what a responsible (_"a responsible man won't run straight to danger without thinking?!") _hardworking ("_make your own soup!" _and _"I said get up! It's late already!") _and honest _("Rukia, I swear I don't know how you lost your clothes while we sleep!") _man would do.

He _does_ because he got rid of his katana and blood and death and his hands are finally free to hold her. Blood-soaked and shaking but free, and she welcomes him, and he holds tight; he's not letting go.

And they ran away. And found an old house. And he keeps his katana only to protect her (and cut woods for burning and hunt food –_no rabbit, no rabbit, no rabbit_- she tells him, _I'll kill you_). And he thinks it's just like being married, so he does these things, these manly things, because women aren't supposed to-

"Idiot, get back in the house and rest," Rukia barks at him –miffed no less.

-do these things. But his Rukia is different.

"I can do that," carrying her own form of blade-sort, like a small rusty scythe, she marches to his side like a stubborn little woman.

"No," his answer is firm and brings down his sword to slice more of the wood, his military training had ran its course, now he's only good for this and occasional deer or lambs but never rabbits, never ever rabbits.

"Ichigo," she isn't joking.

But he won't budge. "Where did you get that?" he eyes the thing and her petite form and her smirking face.

She shrugs, "It's just there," she says and she means the house.

Their house is somewhere, somewhere far, in the middle of woods, not quite far from the small village, but far enough to conceal them. He thinks it was a former outpost from a noble war clan, it's huge, has a destroyed wall section and nature found its way inside, but it's well-concealed and they can live here _forever_ after modifications. She thinks it won't last long, but it will keep him safe until he recovers.

There are many trees nearby and Ichigo, while injured, has taken that stupid, stupid notion of doing only-man-can-do things (like cutting down wood) seriously and she knows he's just a plain, stupid idiot –his back is injured, wounded, slashed. (But she also knows this is his idea of what should married people do.) But still, he is an idiot –but he's her idiot.

Rukia takes some pile of woods, balancing it while her other arm holds the small scythe. Ichigo huffs (and whispers something about women and blades) and walks to her and attempts to help her but she kicks his shin without any warning.

"What the fuck-? I'm injured!" he wails as he massages his shin tenderly.

"Exactly, so get back in the house and keep quiet," she says dismissively and drops the woods. She sits and fixes the hems of her furisode then holds one (_wrong_ –he knows) then proceeds to cut it off slowly like one would to a vegetable.

_Women _–he thinks, then _Rukia, Rukia, Rukia_.

He watches (in disbelief; she looks passionate) her for several minutes while she cuts the woods like vegetables before mumbling, "oh shit, you're doing it wrong."

Rukia looks at him dirtily and remarks "Go sleep somewhere in the house, Ichigo."

"You do it in one strong hit," he says and walks over to her still holding his sword, "like when you want to chop something really hard and really fast-" he does a demonstration, "-like that." And Rukia dismisses him once more, "go away," and cuts her piece of wood slowly like vegetables still.

"You're hopeless," Ichigo scoffs and takes a chunk of wood, "why don't you just do it with me?"

Rukia looks up at him, he grins, of course, it's like she could hear it; married people do things together.

–_her idiot_.

"–no, go away."

* * *

><p>iii.<p>

It's not really a wedding by definition and tradition, it's not really san san kudo, there's no sakazuki to drink from.

There were fireflies, it was night, they were in a pond surrounded by trees, and there were bluebells, there were stars, and the moon was there; a great big white dot in the sky and it was shining so bright, so so bright. And the water was only knee-deep but they were immersed in it and she was kneeling, his whole bloodied body desperately clinging to life. She was washing his wounds, was calming him –she wasn't calm herself, was wiping the blood from him with her dress as she held his head and shushed him and told him he's not going to die. Her heart was beating, too loud, too strong, like it was going to give out anytime. "_I'm marrying you now_," he said, and she was frantic and frantic, and so so frantic. "_Don't say anything_," she said, her voice gave out and it wasn't raining and she hated it that he was trying to sound jovial and she kept on swatting his hand away for trying to cup her face, and she hated it that he was like this. "_I'm marrying you now, damn it_!" _Yes_, she wanted to scream, but she said, "_No, live another day then marry me, you idiot_-"

–all is well now, because she's his wife and he's her husband –though not officiated by any Shinto priest but that's fine because it's not really about the labels.

_I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours_.

* * *

><p>iv.<p>

He retires to bed after her, he kisses her shoulder, and whispers, "we have tomorrow," and tomorrow and tomorrow.

* * *

><p>to be continued<p>

this has 27 slice of life parts in roman numerals.

-stars and sea


	2. Chapter 2

i do not own anything. ooc. disjointed.

**wasurenagusa**

* * *

><p>v.<p>

(He still calls her a bitch when the need for it arises, then steals a kiss afterwards, because that's what they do.)

"_Bitch_," he scoffs, walking ten paces from her.

They are in the village market, busy and loud with peddlers, cramped and filled with smoke from stalls, sunlit and grubby, bright and the heat is not as scorching as the middle of summertime.

He makes sure to walk ten paces behind her, katana tied in a sash around his middle, watching her go about her list, keeping a steady distance between them and being alert for any

Rukia wears a yellow furisode and simple tabi and geta, she walks gracefully –and it's her first time in a shabby place. And of course, there are stares and whisperings.

It's the house they built and the home they made; adorable little couple living in the woods –most of the older villagers say. (Rukia is not so happy about this or any other whisperings, "_security_" she reminds him sternly, reminiscent of her brother, because they are drawing attention.)

So he walks ten paces from her -as per her request- the _security_ thing. They can't be seen together, "your hair is too bright, it will draw unnecessary attention," she said before marching out of their home without a second glance at him.

Then he scoffs behind her, _like she won't draw attention to herself_. Rukia still walks that graceful noble walk, still holds her chin high, and still acts daintily polite while she picks up vegetables for inspection. And really, what poor woman won't draw attention to herself while she inspects a mere vegetable with the finesse of a noblewoman from a lavish court –so he scoffs again, "bitch," and she tells him to, "stay away, Ichigo."

Rumors say (one) he's a bandit wanted for so many, many counts of crime (_why does he have a weapon for if not for looting and killing, hm?_) and she's a young courtesan trying to escape that wretched life (_because really, people coldly say, "a poor woman can't be that beautiful and polished, unless of course, she sells her body_") and they met at a brothel one night.

Ichigo heard this once and told Rukia and she reacted like her old self, "this is pointless, but it is threatening our security." And he teased her still, the idea of a courtesan and a bandit running away isn't bad. (Except the courtesan bit, because _there's_ _no_ _fucking way_.)

While Rukia debates the trader about the benefits of potato over yam, he steadies himself against a wooden column near her. He thinks this somehow fits Rukia and that he'd be glad to do this without having to hide.

(A while later, when she finished all her list and they entered the forest tree line, Ichigo took her satchel and hooked it on him then carried her on his back while climbing back to the old house.)

* * *

><p>vi.<p>

Ishida (the former second in command) visits them regularly because he knows where they are and he won't tell anyone anything under all kinds of death threats and nasty tortures; because he cares for them like they're his own kin.

Sometimes, he brings Inoue with him because he thinks Inoue -_Inoue-san, or Orihime-san _on rare occasions- would very much enjoy taking care of the flowers surrounding his idiot former general's gloomy hideaway at least once in a while.

Inoue-san's feminine presence can keep the idiot's dainty former noblewoman wife-not-wife company because he knows it's easier to drive oneself to the edge of the cliff to escape insanity than stay with his general for months.

Inoue-san is conversant about bees and bats and lilies and stones, and Kuchiki-san -_err, Kurosaki-san? He doesn't really know what to call her at this point_- patiently listens to her wild ramblings.

Once, Ishida might have disliked the former noblewoman's flawless and mechanical reactions to everything, he thought she was putting up with Inoue-san out of cold politeness and not because she was genuinely interested to be her friend –and that he was insulted for Inoue-san.

* * *

><p>vii.<p>

His general. His general. His general. Ishida still calls him his general.

"_Ahh_," –_ahh_, the default and sarcastic introductory noise coming from Ishida whenever he's about to comment on something Ichigo did- "I see you're still alive, Kurosaki." It's a compliment.

"I see you're still an asshole," smirks Ichigo, and then lowers his katana. He's fixing the house for Rukia and him, because they could live here forever.

Ichigo stands there, he doesn't say but he's grateful to all of Ishida's help. Ishida knows this.

"Not quite," answer Ishida sardonically, straightening his sleeve and tucking his elbows and what's left of his upper limbs in. Ishida has lost his left arm; he's not an archer anymore.

Then they would snipe at each other, and Ichigo would ask him about his departure even before he is seated.

And they would talk more over sake Ishida bought, more of old friends than old rivals, and Ishida would tell himself, Kurosaki is not his general anymore.

* * *

><p>viii.<p>

Inoue had been kind and weaved clothes for their use, simpler and less noble and less military and boast none of their previous lives' complexities.

Rukia, he thinks, is better with these clothes.

Rukia had been duty, Rukia had been honor, Rukia had been pride and Rukia would have been death. She won't look at him with these bright eyes. He knows she had no plans of living happily or carefree or untroubled, for she is fire frosted in ice and the shadow of her clansmen who adopted her loomed everywhere and constantly told her to bring them no shame added layers and layers to that ice. And that Ichigo had to coax her to actually live a life, had to deal slash against slash, match blood for blood, and skull for skull.

"Is that a peach blossom?" he points to the hem of her furisode where the flowers twirl and blossom. It is night and they are both preparing to go to sleep.

"Yes, Ishida helped Inoue design those."

"I thought so, the man is a damn pansy-" he earns a quick and light arm slap from Rukia, "what?"

"Be grateful, you idiot," She says and rests her head against his chest and his chin on her head and he feels like he had known her in his other lives before this.

There is some form of tangible serenity in the winds tonight even if there is no moon, the shoji is open and his arms tighten around Rukia and he feels her lips lightly touch his neck and whispers a good night wish and she looks at him one last time before reclining back in his chest.

Ichigo sees the stars in Rukia's eyes and his heart on her hands and he remembers how to breathe.

He thinks it's the start of a happy ending because they found an old house and made a home out of it, it's the warm mist of her breath when she leans closer to him to snuggle during cold afternoons and nights and he puts his arms around her –no longer awkward because she welcomes him and no one is watching and they're not pretending and he sighs contentedly.

* * *

><p>to be continued<p>

-stars and sea


End file.
